Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Her words are earnest, her fear palpable, and I squeeze her hand, my own guilt stirring. “I understand,” I say softly, my voice warm, trying to ease her. “I’d be scared, too. He’s okay, though. He’s fast asleep. I’m sure he won’t wake up if you want to take him.”
She nods, a small smile breaking through, relief softening her features. “I’ll see you later then for our day together.”
I watch her tenderly scoop Jason in her arms and wish to God I could cancel our outing tomorrow, but after this episode of my unthinking naivety, I’ll just suck it up and stick to the plan.
Later that morning, I stand before the vanity, my fingers brushing the fabric of a simple pink dress. It’s delicate, a cotton sundress with a fitted bodice and a skirt that flares just above the knee, its blush hue catching the light like a whisper of spring. I put it on, the hem swaying as I move, and slip on white flats, their leather soft against my feet. A deep breath steadies me, and I head downstairs, the scent of fresh coffee and warm bread guiding my steps.
Sara’s in the breakfast nook, a sunlit corner of the open plan area. She is seated at a round glass table with cushioned chairs around it. Her blonde hair is glowing in the morning light. She’s in a blouse and tailored pants in shades of weathered stone and sand, and her smile is radiant. A gleaming metal teapot steams beside a row of sleek white cups. A plate of scones, golden and crumbly, waits with a jar of clotted cream and a bowl of red jam.
Jason is at the table too, his dark curls combed neatly. He was nibbling at a scone, but with my arrival, he put it down on his plate, but Max’s absence looms, a shadow I can’t ignore. I know he’s not my brother, not bound by blood, but he thinks he is, and every thought of him is a tightrope I walk, balancing love and guilt.
“Good morning,” I call out.
Sara turns around with a bright smile. “Morning, Amelia. Usually, it’s cereal for Jason, eggs for Max, and a green smoothie for me, but Maria has made scones on account of your arrival.”
“Morning, Aunt Amelia,” Jason echoes solemnly. He keeps his eyes on his plate, and his voice is wooden. “I’m sorry I disturbed you last night. I won’t be so selfish again.”
For a second, I’m too shocked to respond. The memory of his poor, tear-streaked face last night is still vivid in my mind, and my first reaction is to tell him that he did not disturb me, and it was not selfish of him to find comfort when he has a nightmare. But one look at Sara smiling approvingly at his prepared little speech makes me clamp my mouth shut. I smile warmly at him and decide to play along. I’m just a guest here. What do I know about bringing up kids?
I slide into the chair next to him and rub my hands together. “Mmm… I’m starving, and those scones look good enough to keep a dragon happy.”
Jason grins at me.
“They are pretty amazing,” Sara says, pouring tea into my cup, the amber liquid swirling. “Try one with Maria’s homemade raspberry jam—it’s heaven.” She hands me the cup, and I take a sip, the warmth spreading through me, easing the tension in my shoulders.
The scones are delicious and we eat to the sound of Sara’s chatter. It is easy and effortless. She tells me about the city’s best boutiques, the hairdresser she swears by. I nod, letting her energy carry me.
Jason chimes in when Sara goes to the kitchen to give Maria some instructions about dinner. He tells me about a bird he saw in the garden, his voice growing bolder, and I smile, encouraging him.
“Was it a blue jay?” I ask, leaning forward.
He shakes his head, describing its yellow and blue wings with wide-eyed wonder. The moment feels simple, almost normal. Then Sara comes back into the room and takes over with her bright chatter.
After breakfast, Jason looks at me wistfully as we head out. He has to stay with the housekeeper and wait for his Math and English tutor to arrive.
The drive to the city is peaceful, Sara’s sleek silver SUV gliding through tree-lined streets, the skyline rising ahead full of gleaming glass towers under a crisp blue sky. The radio hums softly, a jazzy tune that blends with Sara talking on the phone with one of her friends. I hear bits and pieces, but I don’t really listen. Instead, I watch the world pass by—dog walkers, joggers, people in suits hurrying by, a street vendor selling pretzels, another selling hot dogs. The city is alive with motion.
My hands rest in my lap, but my heart races, a mix of anticipation and unease at the outcome of the day, at being so close to Max’s wife.